


A Resurrected Dinner

by iWantMyDrumfredBack (BornBlue)



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ciro's, Drumfred, Edward Drummond Lives, Fanfix, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, and it's a little syrupy at the end but deal with it, but it's romantic and sweet and emotional, but no touching in this one because they're in public and it's the 1840s, drummond doesn't die, romantic, the sexiest this gets are mentions of kissing & general touching & oysters & champagne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornBlue/pseuds/iWantMyDrumfredBack
Summary: This is my imagining of a fix to the (wtf were they thinking) death of Edward Drummond in The Luxury of Conscience.Needless to say, Drummond lives; so how do he and Alfred patch things up?





	A Resurrected Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> My scene picks up with the 2nd dinner at Ciro's and erases all subsequent bad and stupid things that happened in its stead and after. It's written in a general script form, with a fair amount of narrative commentary thrown in.

_The scene takes place following the Corn Laws vote and attempted assassination of Robert Peel. Alfred is seated alone in Ciro’s, once again waiting for Drummond. This time, of course, he’s not certain Drummond will even show up, or that he’s forgiven him for his words at dinner the other night. He strokes a petal from the flowers on the table, deep in thought and beginning to imagine he would never have a moment alone with Edward again._

_But then we see Drummond enter the restaurant and head for Alfred’s table. His approach is different than before—more earnest and with less of a spring in his step. He does not touch Alfred as he passes him—there’s no hand on the shoulder and no apology for his tardiness. He doesn’t appear necessarily upset or hurt, but more businesslike and guarded than usual. Alfred is abashed to see Drummond has tamped-down his typical verve and affection toward him, yet is relieved he’s come at all._

 

DRUMMOND: [ _taking his seat and unfolding his napkin; with a rather businesslike tone_ ] Lord Alfred.

 

ALFRED: Drummond, I’m so glad you could make it.

 

DRUMMOND: I wasn’t certain I’d manage it, but we were able to call for a vote before sundown. [ _smiling, more to himself than to Alfred_ ] I’m grateful I’m here at all right now.

 

ALFRED: As am I. So, were your efforts successful?

 

DRUMMOND: Yes, it passed.

 

ALFRED: Then I believe we have something to celebrate. [ _he smiles at Drummond, but can hardly look him straight in the eye, still ashamed; instead, he hails the waiter passing by_ ] Oysters and champagne.

 

DRUMMOND: Ah yes, the oysters. You summoned me back to taste them at long last. 

 

ALFRED: Well, it _would_ be a shame if you didn’t. [ _pause_ ] But of course, that’s not the only reason I invited you.

 

_The waiter returns to pour their champagne. They sit in silence, regarding each other rather cautiously while they’re served. Once the waiter has gone, Alfred continues._

 

ALFRED: Clearly, I owe you an apology.

 

DRUMMOND: Clearly.

 

ALFRED: I don’t suppose you’re inclined to make this easy for me? [ _Drummond is silent_ ] I spoke rather ineptly the other night, and I fear I may have given you the impression that our time in Scotland had not been of much significance to me. [ _looking directly in his eyes_ ] Nothing could be further from the truth. I spoke as I did out of concern—and, to be frank, some alarm. I simply believe you should think things through before you do something you may regret in hindsight. You are ambitious and talented, but I am pragmatic. I don’t want to see you waste all your hard work and throw your prospects away for something that cannot be. [ _in hushed tones_ ] You know that you and I cannot have a proper future together, as desperately as we might wish it.

 

_Hearing Alfred practically admit that he would like a future with Drummond stirs the warmth in his eyes. But he continues to sit silently, gathering his thoughts. Eventually, Alfred speaks_.

 

ALFRED: Do you see?

 

DRUMMOND: [ _takes a slow sip of his champagne_ ] I nearly didn’t make it here tonight, and not simply because of the vote. [ _Alfred looks abashed, thinking Drummond is about to admonish him, just as he’s been doing with himself_ ] I was shot at, you see. 

 

ALFRED: [ _suddenly alarmed_ ] Shot at? 

 

DRUMMOND: Well, actually, it was the Prime Minister who was shot at, but the bullet surely would have struck me instead. I heard shouting behind me and pushed Sir Robert out of the way, and as I was turning around, I found myself looking straight down the barrel of a gun. By God’s grace, someone in that crowd pushed the assailant’s hand skyward just before it fired. I tell you, there cannot be many things that focus one’s mind quite like knowing how close you have come to your own end. [ _Alfred’s face has grown ashen and afraid_ ] I thought about it all the way here—if I had died… but I didn’t… so what do I want my life to be? I thought about what matters to me. I suppose I should try to control my feelings for you, Alfred, but I don’t think I even want to. I’ve never really felt alive until now, and having looked death nearly in the eyes, I don’t want to live a half-life. There’s another matter, too. I no longer believe that I could, um, perform the husbandly duties that would be required of me were I to marry Florence. I’d never really thought about it; I just imagined the desire would grow. But now that I’ve felt it for you, I know that it will not. I don’t think I understood myself at all when she and I made our arrangement, but I now believe that I simply couldn’t do it. Even if I felt I could, it would be supremely unfair to her and to me. Florence thinks she loves me, but she doesn’t _know_ me—not as you do. [ _Alfred clears his throat as the waiter returns with the oysters. They both fall silent as plates are placed before them and the waiter walks away_.] Somehow, I will manage without a wife. I will make a path for myself and I believe I may still find some success. And if you can bear with me, we could find some way to— _some_ way to continue. I will likely never be prime minister, but I can imagine such a life and I honestly don’t mind. What I cannot imagine is living my life trying to love someone who isn’t you. [ _very quietly_ ] And I truly can’t bear the thought of never kissing you again. Or touching you—really touching you. I’ve tasted from the tree of knowledge and I can never be who I was before. God help me.

 

_Alfred has been listening intently. He is fighting his emotions._

 

ALFRED: Well. That does put a new face on things, doesn’t it? 

 

_They sit in silence for a bit, sipping champagne and looking at each other, nothing else to say on the subject right now._

 

ALFRED: You must try an oyster while they’re still cold. 

 

_Drummond picks one up, not taking his eyes off Alfred. Alfred does the same, and they each have an oyster_.

 

ALFRED: I’m not certain… [ _in a hushed tone_ ] Edward… how we can make any of this work. I suppose we’ll find out.

 

DRUMMOND: [ _smiling now_ ] Together?

 

ALFRED: [ _nodding_ ] If you’re really certain. 

 

DRUMMOND: I don’t believe I’ve ever been more certain of anything. 

 

_They smile at each other, but it’s not necessarily light-hearted; both men seem to understand how serious this decision is._

 

ALFRED: [ _picking up another oyster and indicating it_ ] So, were they worth the wait? 

 

DRUMMOND: Yes, every moment.

 

ALFRED: Splendid, aren’t they?

 

DRUMMOND: Heavenly.


End file.
